


Complementary Colors

by Gamzbee



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Collars, Ghoul Grunkle Ford, Leashes, M/M, Master/Pet, Mullet Grunkle Stan, Multi, Stancest - Freeform, Twincest, Vampire Fiddleford H. McGucket, fiddauthor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 04:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13628268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamzbee/pseuds/Gamzbee
Summary: A story for Cirilee on Tumblr. This story is based off of their wonderful FiddAuthor Ghoul AU!





	Complementary Colors

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. To- "Shut. Up." Ford muttered lethargically under his breath as he fixed his shirt sleeves over his wrists. His partner always knew the types of clothes he liked. His attire consisted of a yellow, long sleeved shirt with a white collar and cuffs, a red stripe circling around his chest. Also, black sweatpants are adorning his lower half with grey, knee-length socks on his feet. His hair was a mess and he didn't really have it in him to fix it at the moment. He exhaled and turned where he laid, looking to the side at the front door. His left arm was draped over the front of the couch, his knuckles laying on the cold, hard floor. His leg was bent, close to falling off the couch. His left foot was flexed on the cushion, which was the only real thing keeping his leg from actually falling off the couch. His right arm was nestled under his pillow, his cheek pressed against it. The red fabric was tantalizing, but he knew it wasn't what he needed. Still, that didn't stop him from drooling on it the more he stared at it. His partner knew having something red close to him would help calm him. Good thinking, because it seemed to do the trick.

All he really wanted right now is for the knob to turn. He was so hungry. He needed his partner home. He's been gone for a few hours now. Although, it didn't feel like it was that long due to Fiddleford's scent lingering in the shack along with his own. He enjoyed his lover's scent more than any other aroma. Not the blood scent, no. His actual smell. Something about it seemed to make Ford more tranquil than most other things could. Ford could only imagine how he'd act when Fidds came home. He would usually jump up and run over, practically knocking him over and pressing kisses to his lips. But in his current weakened state, that scenario became a bit more unlikely. He tapped the grain with his feral nails, growing a bit listless as he waited for Fiddleford to return. A short growl of frustration escaped his throat as he began to turn back to face the ceiling.

A small squeak graced Ford's ears and he stopped turning, facing the front door in excitement. A figure came in the door. A tall, beefy figure. It wasn't Fiddleford, though. Ford got up and began to growl at the silhouette, almost getting down on all fours to lunge at him. The figure held back a laugh. "I can always count on you for a warm welcome." The voice was very familiar. Deep and husky. He sounded like he was a smoker. It was his brother, Stan. Ford stood back up weakly and smiled. "My apologies, Stanley. I expected Fiddleford to be opening the door, not you." He scratched behind his head as he looked his brother up and down. He was wearing a burly, dark blue, zip-up jacket along with black denim pants. A dark, olive green beanie was placed on his head. He wore navy blue gloves on his hands and black boots on his feet. They looked rather dirty. His hair was also its usual mullet. He actually thought longer hair looked nice on him. "Why're you... Why're you here?" Stan crosses his arms and scoffs quietly. "Can't your brother just come by to visit? Jeez." He smiles as Stanford turns around. "Alright. C-Close the door and...and come sit down." Stan closes the door with a slightly audible slam and puts his brown book bag down near the door. He takes his gloves and beanie off, putting them in his left coat pocket and idling over to the couch to sit down.

Ford sat very close to his brother, laying the side of his head down on his shoulder and his right hand laying on his thigh. Stan was a bit put off by this. "Hey, Poindexter. You alright? You're being a bit...touchier than usual." He leans over and tries to look Ford in the eyes, but they're closed. His breathing was a bit heavy, but he wasn't snoring. Stan reaches over to shake him, resting his hand on his right shoulder. "Hey! Wake up!" He raises his voice a bit to get Ford's attention, making him raise his head quickly. His eyes are still half shut. "Hmm? Oh, I'm fine... Just, uh... Just a little tired..." His eyes close once again and he starts to fall over onto the cold floor. Stan swiftly catches him and gets in front of him, kneeling and raising Ford's face by cupping his chin with his right hand. "Stanford! Okay. You are NOT fine. I-" He cuts himself off thinking for a moment. "You said Fidds was gone, right? And you drink blood now...so... I'm guessing he went out to find some animals for you to drink their blood, right?" Ford didn't respond, his eyes closed again. Stan's facial expression contorted into one of mild worry.

He lightly slaps Ford's cheeks to wake him up. "Hey! Wake up, you idiot." Stan's trying to make it look like it doesn't bother him, but it clearly does. Ford's eyes shoot open for a split second and he looks around. His eyes quickly begin to close once more. "Stan, I told you I'm fine... I'm just tired..." "Bullshit." He shakes Ford a little to keep him awake. "Language, Stanley." Stan lightly scoffs. "Wow. You're literally dying of starvation and your number one priority is STILL telling me to watch my language." He shakes his head a bit and looks down and to the left, biting his lip gently and taking a deep breath before he takes his jacket off. "Here... Drink some of mine." He pulls on the collar of his worn out red T-shirt with his index finger, revealing the crook of his strong neck. "Stanley, no... I wouldn't dare do that to you..." Ford protests, putting his hands in front of himself and waving them a couple times. "Stanford, I WANT you to. Please! You're clearly starving." He grabs onto Ford's shoulder with his right hand again and tries pulling him closer to his neck. Ford resists.

Stan gets up with a huff and looks around, his feet stomping on the floor as he heads into a nearby room. Ford watches him, even though his eyes are barely open. "Stanley?... What're you doing?..." Ford asked wearily, trying to push himself up off of the couch. Stan could be heard rummaging through a trunk in Fiddleford's room. "That other nerd's gotta have something in here that'll make you listen to me!" He yells, a few clunks mixed in with his reply. Suddenly, all the noises cease after Stan seemingly opens a drawer or cabinet. .......... "Stanley? What... What did you find?..." The pause wasn't one of worry, the pause was mainly due to him being so worn out and needing to take breaths between some words. Stan's heavy boot steps come to the doorway and he stops, looking down at the object in his hands with mild concern. ".....What the hell is this?" He's holding a light, olive green leash in his right hand and a dark red studded collar in the other.

Stanford's whole demeanor changed and he seemingly gained enough energy to speak more than he had been before. His eyes widen, his ears fold back, and his entire face turns a dark lime. "I-I... Th-That's nothing! G-Go put it back!" Stan adjusts the collar in his hand a few times, searching to locate a name on it. "Is it for a pet you two used to have or someth-" He's cut off when he see's 'Ford' printed onto a golden label. He isn't actually certain it says 'Ford' on it for a second until he looks closer at it. Yep. It obviously says 'Ford' right there. "Uhh... Stanford? This thing has YOUR name on it. Is there, uh... Is there...something you're not telling me?" He glances over at his brother, who is clearly embarrassed by his twin finding these things. "S-Stanley, it's not exactly used for what you're thinking it's used for. Fiddleford makes me wear that when I refuse to feed on him. He pulls me to him with it to get me to drink..." He stops speaking and hangs his head. "Wow... I...shouldn't have said that." He slaps his forehead with the palm of his right hand.

Stan smiles devilishly and slowly meanders back over to his twin brother, sashaying his hips and twirling the leash around. "Yeah. You probably shouldn't have, but I'm glad you did. Now I know how to get you to drink." "S-Stanley?! I-I said no!" He tries getting up to move away, but he just falls back down onto the couch, too weak to lift himself. "Stanley, please! I already told you I don't want to drink your blood!" Stan stops directly in front of him and puts the collar around Ford's neck, fastening it a bit tightly and hooking the leash around the metal ring, giving it a couple gentle test tugs. "You don't seem to be trying to stop me, though. Care to explain?" His voice sounded lower, slightly more devious, and...seductive? Was that for real or was that just how Stanford was hearing it? "I... I really don't want to have to feed on you. The only reason I'm not fighting back is because I don't want to hurt you, Stanley..." His ears fold back yet again and his blush diminished. His head tilts downward and he almost begins to cry, his eyes closed tightly.

Stan slowly puts his hand on Ford's chin, caressing his jawline with his thumb, which makes Ford's eyes open. He looks up at him with his mouth slightly agape. Stan gets down on one knee again and smiles reassuringly at his brother, a trace of worry mixed in with his gaze. "Stanford... Please do this for me. I don't want you to starve just because you refuse to listen to me." He takes Ford's right ear in his fingertips and rubs it, causing his head to tick to the side. Ford puts his left hand on Stan's right forearm, smiling weakly. "But I don't...want to hurt you, Stanley..." Stan wraps the leash around his hand and gently pulls Ford's head closer to him with it, gracing his forehead with a chaste kiss for a couple seconds. "C'mon, Poindexter. We BOTH know I'm the stronger twin. I was better at P.E. and boxing." He grins, taking the hand he was rubbing Ford's ear with and putting it down, rustling his hair with his left hand.

Stanford looks over at the leash in his brother's right hand, causing him to sweat a tad. He looks back in his beefier twin's glazed eyes and smiles sheepishly. "If... Only if...you're sure you're alright with it..." He puts his hand on Stan's right cheek. He nods. "Well... Alright." Ford places his hands on Stan's hips and pulls him closer to him, having him sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around him, taking in his brother's warmth for a couple minutes. "Well, are you gonna drink or what?" Stan asked, seemingly impatient. "Yes! Just... Just give me a second..." He rubs his cheek on the jock's chest, much like a cat, letting out a relaxed exhale as his head trails upward towards his neck. The collar's studs poke Stan's collarbone, which cause an odd sound to come from his lips. "Uh, Ford. The collar is stabbing me." He explains, poking the nerd's shoulder a couple times. Ford sits back a bit and looks at his brother's collarbone. "M-My bad."

After a bit of cuddling, Ford moves his hands up Stan's shirt, making his brother's back arch inward. "Gh-!" He clenches his teeth a bit. "Wh-What're you doing, Sixer?" He rests his hands on Ford's shoulders, letting his right hand's index finger tap on his shoulder blade momentarily. "Nh-." He pushes his twin away from him slightly, looking up at him. He closes his eyes tightly, shakes his head, and opens them again as if he was in some sort of trance. He takes his hands out from under Stan's T-shirt and clasps them nervously and awkwardly. "Sorry! I keep... I keep forgetting you're not...Fiddleford." He looks afraid to keep going and doing anything else. "Stanford, you're fine. Do whatever you need to do. If it helps you start feeding, go ahead." He presses his mouth against Ford's forehead again. Not really a kiss this time, because no suction was made.

"O-Okay." He again slides his hands slowly up Stan's shirt, clinging onto it from underneath. His cold hands briefly touch his back, making Stan shoot forward. "Mm!" His grip on Ford's shoulders grow slightly rougher at the frigid backs of his sibling's hands. "I know you're stalling, Ford." His voice was low and it echoed in Stanford's ears. He'd never told him before, but he loved the feeling his brother's voice gave him. "Now drink." He leans closer to Ford's ear. "Be a good boy, Stanford." Shivers shoot up his spine when Stan's husky voice whispers that to him. It reminded him of Fiddleford, which made him grip onto Stan's back, his nails slightly digging into his skin, but not enough to make him bleed. He pulls Stan closer to him, making his entire body press on his own. "Yes, Master."

He licks his brother's neck slowly, letting his saliva get his neck nice and wet before he lets the tips of his sharp, ghoulish fangs intrude his skin. Stan winces a bit loudly, not used to the feeling of his brother's teeth being in his neck. He squeezes Ford's shoulders much more firmly, squirming on his lap as his sibling began to suck the blood from his nutrient rich body. Stan moves to adjust his sitting position, but Ford growled and dug his claws into his back, indicating he wanted him to sit still. He pulls away from Stan's neck momentarily and looks up at him, his teeth already completely coated with thick, ruby blood. "Stanley... You need to sit still and not move so much or I'll start acting more aggressive. I know it can be hard to remain still for so long while there are teeth in your neck. Believe me, Fiddleford's told me." His teeth drip blood from their tips every few seconds, making a few spots on his yellow shirt turn a dark shade of orange.

Stan moves his hands from Ford's shoulders, placing his left hand on his right arm's bicep and pulling back on the leash after wrapping it around his right hand a bit more. This sudden pull makes Ford whine for a split second, then it turns to a slight growl. "I never told you you could stop, Sixer. I'm fine with whatever you do. Now keep going." He pulls back on the leash again, a bit more roughly this time, making Ford's face go into the crook of his neck. He growls again. "You've always had a bit of an issue with being controlling, haven't you, Stanley?" He grins, but he's sure Stan can't see it. He may or may not be enjoying this. "Hush and get back to it. I know you can't be full yet. You hardly took anything." He grabs the back of Ford's head with the hand the leash is wrapped around and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment before gripping onto it. "...Fine."

He then bites back into Stan's flesh to drink, audibly sucking the blood from him. Stan can feel his brother's fangs stabbing into his neck, the feeling akin to hundreds of needles pricking his skin. This makes him swallow his saliva with a groan. "Ford... E-Easy..." He pets his hair to try soothing him, which actually works quite a bit. Ford takes his hands out from under Stan's shirt. He takes his left hand and grips his hair roughly, jerking his head to the side so his head has more space. This sudden jerk makes Stan grunt, clenching his jaw slightly. He almost moves, but remembers what Ford said about becoming more aggressive and decides to stay completely still. He loosens his grip on the nerdier twin's hair and gently begins to pet it, fluffing it with his fingertips. Ford begins to purr loudly, acting much more docile than before when Stan was moving around. "Phew... Good, uh... Good boy..." He utters awkwardly as he pets his brother's hair, leering to the side at the wall.

After a minute of silence, Stan tries to ask a few questions to get the stinging feeling of Ford's fangs out of his head. "Uh... So... How often do you and Fidds do this whole...feeding thing?" As a response, Ford moves his left hand from gripping Stan's hair and holds up one finger. "Once? Like once a day, you mean?" Ford gives a thumbs up. "Oh... I'm gonna...move my hands." Ford holds up his thumb again as confirmation that it was okay to do so. He shifts his hands to Ford's shoulders and taps his fingers on them as he thinks. "Um... How often with the...the collar stuff?" He was a bit scared to ask, not wanting to actually enrage Ford for once for obvious reasons. He doesn't give him an answer. Instead, he clutches his brother tighter to tell him to be quiet. Stan just huffs and allows his brother to continue doing his thing.

Stan rests his chin on his brother's shoulder after a minute or two, closing his eyes. It didn't hurt as much as it did when Ford first bit him, so he just relaxes. Actually, he was starting to get a bit tired. He tries not to fall asleep just in case Ford attempts to drink more than required. Is that even possible? Would Ford know when to stop? Would he even be able to stop himself? He thought about these things for a second. Then, just after zoning out, Ford pulls away from him and licks his fangs, humming genially. He glances over at his brother and blushes a dark lime, peering back over at the front door for no particular reason. He clasps his hands, rubbing his thumbs together. "S-So... D-Did it hurt too much? O-Or at all?" He asks worriedly as his brother begins to stand up. Stan just shakes his head with a reassuring smile, uncoiling the leash from around his hand and placing it in Ford's. "I actually feel fine. But that might just be because it was my first time." He winks playfully at him with more of a grin now, picking up his jacket and heading towards the front door.

"Stanley... Come here." He holds his arms out to him, beckoning him to come back. Stan tilts his head upwards and shakes his head with a smile, pacing back over to Stanford and sitting next to him. He lazes back against the couch, his neck trickling blood. "Need something else, Poindexter?" Ford promptly takes his brother by his arms and pulls him onto him, gently beginning to kiss the wound where he bit him. Their position is a bit compromising. Stan is laying over Stanford and their lower portions are pressed together. A low, rumbling purr emanates from the ghoul's throat as he presses kisses to his sibling's neck. Stan just holds onto his waist as he does, not making any attempts to stop him. "F-Ford?... What're you doing?" He asks, honestly unsure of what was happening. "It's called aftercare. It's what Fiddleford and I do after I've fed on him. It helps heal you quicker." "Oh... Uh... Alright."

Ford presses his tongue to the injury, making Stan tilt his head to the side. He holds on to both of his hands. Stan interlocks fingers with him, letting his brother know he liked the attention. Stan's always loved holding Ford's hands. There was a place between each of his fingers for all five of his, unlike other people's. Others would only had space for four. The other finger would always be left on the outside, but not with Stanford. Each of his fingers had a place between his. He loved that about him. When Stan pulls away, Ford jerks him back and kisses his lips for a split second. This makes him purr even louder than he already was. Stan pushes him away again gingerly. "S-Stanford?" He looks his scrawnier twin in the eyes. "It's the very least I could do to thank you..." He bashfully looks away, fiddling with the leash gawkily like a person playing with their long locks of hair. Stan abruptly holds him by his upper arms and gives him a kiss back. Ford's eyes widen for a few seconds before they start to close and he begins to wrap his arms around the larger twin's midsection. A sudden wave of desire comes over Stan and he begins kissing his brother more passionately.

As Stan and Ford were lost in their own little world of sweet kisses, the front door's handle began to squeak, opening slowly. Fiddleford opened the door, a big trash bag in hand. He was looking into the bag as he started to speak. "Hey, Stanford! I hunted down a few rabbits and a raccoo-" He paused as he saw the two making out on the couch. When Ford saw his mate from the corner of his eye, he frantically pushed Stan off of him and sat up, putting his hands on his knees. He also tried to hide the collar around his neck by pulling up his shirt a bit. "F-Fiddleford! I-I can... I can explain! I-..." Fiddleford puts up his other hand to interrupt him. "Shush! It's fine, I understand! You needed blood, Stan came around, I assume he offered. It's all okay!" Stanford's eyes dart to the side as he puts his right hand up to adjust his crooked glasses. "Y-You're not mad that I...?" He looks down a bit.

Fiddleford sighed and put the bag down near the door, walking over to the two and sitting crisscrossed in front of them both. He looks up at Ford. "Trust me, I'm not mad. I understand fully." He transfers his gaze to Stan. "I hope he wasn't too rough on you, Stan. I know he can get a bit...fervorous after a few minutes of feeding..." His eyes glance down at the ground as he touches his fingertips together. "Uh...ferv- what now?" "Passionate." His cheeks tint a light scarlet. "Oh!" Stan's eyes get a bit wide and his face also flushes a bit. He chuckles. "Yeah. I noticed." He grabs the leash that Stanford hid behind himself and shows it to Fiddleford. Ford tries to grab it from Stan. "S-Stanley!" Stan pulls on it, making Ford's head fall over into his lap. "Ah-ah!" He waggles a finger at him with the hand the leash is being held in. "Don't try to take it from me." He remarks dominantly and sassily. Ford whines and then groans, folding his arms with a frustrated scowl.

"You had to utilize that?" Fiddleford questions, eyeing the leash in Stan's hand. "Yeah. Why do you ask? Actually, I'm just surprised you're not bothered because I found it." He shrugs playfully as he strokes Ford's hair, making a quiet purr come from his throat. "I am, actually, but the reason I'm asking is because I only really have use it when Stanford is determined not to listen to me. Was he really being that obnoxious?" Stan nods. "Yeah. He said he didn't want to hurt me." "He says the same thing to me, but it's only when he's extremely blood deprived. He must have been really hungry around an hour after I left..." Stan stops petting Ford's hair, staring ahead at nothing in particular. "Then... Why DID you leave? Why'd you leave him here to starve instead of giving him some of your own blood?" His voice sounded a bit harsh as he leaned over Ford defensively, leering into Fiddleford's eyes. "It wasn't like I wanted to leave him here, but I needed to regain my own supply of blood because he had already taken so much that I could hardly move without falling over! I drank and ate as much as I could so I could muster the strength to go out and kill animals to provide for him! And, as it turns out, vampire blood isn't as nutrient rich as I thought, so going out and hunting animals helps me and Stanford get the other nutrients we can't provide for ourselves."

Stan blinks a few times, trying to register what he just heard. ".....Oh! Right! I think I actually said something about you going out to hunt animals for him earlier, but I guess I forgot." He rubs his left eye with the palm of his hand. "Heh. Sixer must've taken more out of me than I realize, huh?" Fiddleford nods, fixing his glasses on his nose. Stan looks down at the floor, feeling guilty now for getting so angry at him. Fiddleford notices this and pats Stan's knee. "It's fine. You were just worried about your brother. You're also probably a bit weary from the blood loss, I reckon. I still get tired and can lose blood from him feeding on me, but the only real difference is that it doesn't hurt when he bites me anymore." He stands up, patting the dirt off his rear end. "I'm going to go fix dinner. Would you like to stay? I apparently have rabbits I can prepare now." He smiles, which causes Stan to smile in return. "Sure. I don't see why not." Fiddleford heads over to the front door, picks up the bag of animals, and heads into the kitchen. Ford sits up, looking over at Fidds before looking back over at his brother. "Can you...take this off, please?" He gestures at the collar with his eyes. "Oh! Sure." Stan turns the collar around until he sees the latch, undoing it and taking it off of him. He sets it to the side on the arm of the couch.

"I don't mean to be rude, but...how does he put up with you?" Stan forces a fake laugh from himself to try making the question seem less rude. "I dunno, honestly. He likes green... I like red..." He glances back over at his lover in the kitchen, skinning the rabbits. A small, barely noticeable smile forms on his lips and he sighs happily. "...I guess that's just how complementary colors work."


End file.
